Table of Contents
Captain Rashid Al-Mansouri stared at the radar screen in the bridge of the Maran Andromeda, a 330-meter supertanker carrying two million barrels of crude bound for Shanghai. Forty-seven kilometers off the coast of Fujairah, the vessel had been stationary for six days. The Strait of Hormuz—normally a 21-mile-wide highway through which one-fifth of humanity’s oil passes—had become a de facto no-go zone.
“Insurance voided,” the message from London had read. “War risk exclusion invoked. Proceed at owner’s peril.”
Al-Mansouri was not alone. By the second week of March 2025, more than 150 tankers sat anchored in Gulf waters, their hulls dark against the turquoise sea, their cargo—collectively worth billions—trapped by a conflict that had escalated with shocking speed. The US-Iran war, which began with precision strikes on February 28, had transformed within days from a limited military operation into a regional crisis with profound implications for the Gulf monarchies whose prosperity depends on the very waters now deemed too dangerous to traverse.
The question facing Riyadh, Abu Dhabi, Doha, and their neighbors was excruciating: How do you maintain an alliance with Washington while protecting the economic lifeline that flows through the world’s most volatile chokepoint?
The path to direct war was paved by years of failed diplomacy. The collapse of the 2015 nuclear agreement, the Trump administration’s 2018 withdrawal, and the Biden administration’s inability to resurrect a diplomatic framework left both sides in a state of managed hostility—until February 28, 2025, when the Trump administration launched a series of precision strikes targeting Iranian nuclear facilities and military command centers.
The initial American operation was designed to be limited. According to analysis from the Council on Foreign Relations, the strikes targeted facilities at Fordow, Natanz, and Isfahan, alongside command nodes of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC). The objective, stated US officials, was to degrade Iran’s nuclear capabilities and deter further aggression in the region.
Iran’s response was both predictable and unprecedented in scale. Within 48 hours, ballistic missiles and drones were striking targets across the Gulf—not just American military installations, but the civilian infrastructure of Washington’s Arab partners. The International Institute for Strategic Studies documented strikes against oil facilities in Saudi Arabia, commercial shipping in UAE waters, and military bases in Qatar and Kuwait.
“What we’re witnessing is the transformation of a shadow war into open conflict,” notes Suzanne Maloney, director of the Foreign Policy program at the Brookings Institution. “For decades, Iran operated through proxies—Hezbollah, the Houthis, militias in Iraq. Now the Iranian state is striking directly, and that changes every calculation for Gulf leaders.”
The nuclear dimension adds a particular urgency. According to the Institute for Science and International Security, Iran’s breakout time—the period required to produce sufficient fissile material for a nuclear weapon—had shrunk to mere weeks by early 2025. The US strikes were explicitly framed as preventing Iran from crossing that threshold. But the operation also eliminated whatever diplomatic constraints remained, unleashing Iran’s full conventional arsenal against regional targets.
Historical parallels are instructive. During the 1980s Tanker War, Iran and Iraq attacked commercial shipping in the Gulf, resulting in 546 civilian seamen killed and hundreds of vessels damaged. The US responded with Operation Earnest Will, reflagging Kuwaiti tankers and escorting them through the Strait. But 2025 presents a fundamentally different challenge: Iran’s missile capabilities have advanced dramatically, and the economic integration of the Gulf states—with their tourism hubs, financial centers, and global business models—creates vulnerabilities that did not exist four decades ago.
No country embodies the tension between ambition and vulnerability more acutely than Saudi Arabia. Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman’s Vision 2030 represents the most ambitious economic transformation program in the kingdom’s history—diversifying away from oil dependence toward tourism, technology, and finance. The plan depends on stability, foreign investment, and global confidence.
The US-Iran war threatens all three.
Saudi oil infrastructure remains vulnerable despite significant investments in defense. The 2019 attack on Abqaiq—allegedly launched by Iranian-backed Houthis—temporarily halved the kingdom’s production and exposed the limits of its air defense network. Today, with Iran striking directly, the threat is orders of magnitude greater.
“Saudi Arabia finds itself in a nearly impossible position,” writes Karen Young at the Washington Institute for Near East Policy. “The kingdom depends on US security guarantees, but those guarantees now come with the cost of being drawn into a conflict that threatens its economic future. The question in Riyadh is whether the US is a reliable partner or a liability.”
The kingdom’s spare oil capacity—approximately 3.5 million barrels per day—represents a critical buffer for global markets. But that capacity is only valuable if it can reach market. With the Strait of Hormuz effectively closed, Saudi Arabia’s ability to influence oil prices through production adjustments is severely constrained. The Financial Times reported that Saudi officials have privately expressed frustration with Washington’s failure to consult before the February strikes, viewing the operation as a unilateral American decision that imposed costs on Gulf partners without their consent.
If Saudi Arabia represents the challenge of protecting oil infrastructure, the United Arab Emirates illustrates the vulnerability of a diversified economy built on global connectivity. Dubai’s transformation into a tourism, finance, and logistics hub depends on its reputation as a safe, stable destination for international business.
That reputation is now in jeopardy.
On March 7, 2025, Iranian missiles struck Dubai’s Jebel Ali port—one of the world’s largest container facilities—and targeted Dubai International Airport, the world’s busiest for international passenger traffic. The UAE’s sophisticated air defense network, which includes THAAD and Patriot batteries acquired from the US, intercepted the majority of incoming threats. According to Reuters, the UAE achieved a 94% interception rate for drones and 92% for ballistic missiles—an impressive technical achievement that nonetheless reveals the scale of the threat.
But interception is not neutralization. The cost-exchange ratio heavily favors Iran. While a Shahed drone costs approximately $10,000-20,000 to produce, the interceptor missiles required to destroy it—PAC-3 MSEs—cost $3-4 million each. As S&P Global Commodity Insights noted, the UAE and Saudi Arabia “can’t sustain such a cost-exchange ratio for long.”
The economic impact extends beyond defense expenditures. Emirates Airlines, Dubai’s flagship carrier, has suspended flights to multiple destinations and faces a collapse in forward bookings. The tourism sector, which contributes 11% of Dubai’s GDP, is experiencing cancellations at levels not seen since the COVID-19 pandemic. Real estate markets—already under pressure from global interest rate increases—face a new wave of uncertainty as expatriates reconsider their presence in the region.
“Dubai’s value proposition is built on being a safe harbor in a turbulent region,” observes a senior executive at a major international bank with operations in the emirate, speaking on condition of anonymity. “If that safety perception is shattered, the entire business model is at risk. You can’t be a global financial center when missiles are landing at your airport.”
Qatar occupies a unique position in this crisis. As the world’s third-largest LNG exporter, the emirate supplies approximately 20% of global LNG—much of it to Asian markets through the Strait of Hormuz. Unlike oil, which can be diverted through alternative routes (albeit at higher cost), Qatar’s LNG exports have no practical alternative to Hormuz transit.
The stakes could not be higher. Qatar’s liquefaction capacity—77 million tonnes per annum—represents decades of investment and underpins the emirate’s sovereign wealth and global influence. A sustained closure of Hormuz would not merely inconvenience Qatar; it would threaten the fundamental basis of its economy.
Yet Qatar also hosts the largest American military installation in the Middle East. Al-Udeid Air Base, located southwest of Doha, serves as the forward headquarters for US Central Command and hosts over 10,000 American service members. This presence offers protection—it also makes Qatar a target.
The emirate’s traditional role as a regional mediator has been severely constrained. Qatar’s foreign minister had engaged in back-channel discussions with Iranian officials in the months preceding the conflict, attempting to de-escalate tensions. Those channels are now largely severed, and Qatar’s ability to influence events has diminished.
“Qatar is caught between its security partnership with the US and its economic dependence on LNG exports that must pass through Iranian-contested waters,” notes Trita Parsi of the Quincy Institute for Responsible Statecraft. “There’s no good option here—only degrees of damage limitation.”
The smaller Gulf states face their own distinct challenges. Kuwait, with significant oil production and proximity to the Iraqi border, worries about spillover from Iranian-backed militias. Bahrain, home to the US Fifth Fleet headquarters, is a symbolic target for Iranian propaganda even if its physical vulnerability is limited. Oman, traditionally the region’s mediator, has seen its diplomatic channels strained by the intensity of the conflict.
Oman’s position is particularly poignant. The sultanate has historically maintained cordial relations with Iran, facilitated secret US-Iran negotiations, and positioned itself as a neutral party in regional disputes. But neutrality becomes untenable when missiles are flying. Oman has quietly increased its security cooperation with the US and UAE while attempting to preserve its diplomatic channels to Tehran—a balancing act that grows more precarious by the day.
The economic implications of the US-Iran war extend far beyond the Gulf itself. Global oil markets have experienced their most significant disruption since the 2003 Iraq invasion, with prices surging 26% from pre-conflict levels.
Brent crude, the international benchmark, crossed $90 per barrel in early March and has remained volatile, trading between $85-91 depending on headlines from the region. Every $10 increase in oil prices costs the global economy approximately $1 trillion annually, according to Goldman Sachs Research. For oil-importing nations, the impact is immediate and painful: higher fuel costs, increased inflation, reduced consumer spending, and potential recessionary pressures.
The International Energy Agency warned that prolonged disruption could push prices above $100 per barrel, a level that would significantly impact global growth. The agency noted that while strategic petroleum reserves could provide short-term relief, sustained outages would overwhelm buffer stocks.
US consumers are already feeling the effects. Gasoline prices have risen to $3.20 per gallon nationally, with higher prices in coastal states dependent on imported crude. The political implications for the Trump administration are significant: rising fuel costs historically correlate with reduced presidential approval ratings and electoral vulnerability.
Perhaps the most underreported aspect of this crisis is the mechanism by which the Strait of Hormuz has been effectively closed. It is not Iranian naval blockade or American military interdiction, but the withdrawal of commercial insurance coverage that has halted maritime traffic.
War risk insurance, which covers vessels against military action, has seen premiums surge to 1% of vessel value per voyage—up from approximately 0.1% before the conflict. For a supertanker worth $100 million, a single transit now requires $1 million in additional insurance. More critically, many underwriters have simply withdrawn from the market entirely, refusing to cover any vessels entering the Gulf.
The result is a de facto closure that affects not just oil but all maritime commerce. Container ships, bulk carriers, and LNG vessels have all been impacted. The Wilson Center noted that this “insurance-driven closure” may be more durable than military blockades, as it reflects private sector risk assessment rather than government policy that could be reversed through diplomacy.
“The insurance market is sending a clear signal,” says a London-based maritime underwriter who requested anonymity. “The risk of transiting Hormuz is currently unquantifiable. Until there’s clarity on the military situation, most underwriters will remain on the sidelines.”
The impact extends to aviation. Dubai International Airport, which handled 87 million passengers in 2024, has seen flight cancellations and rerouting as airlines avoid Iranian airspace. Emirates, Etihad, and Qatar Airways—all major global carriers—have suspended routes and face significant revenue losses.
The logistics sector is similarly affected. Jebel Ali, the region’s largest container port, has experienced a 40% decline in throughput as shipping lines divert vessels to alternative routes. The cost of shipping from Asia to Europe has increased 35% as vessels are forced to circumnavigate the Arabian Peninsula rather than transship through Dubai.
For businesses operating in the Gulf, the disruption is immediate and costly. Supply chains are being reconfigured, inventories are being built up, and contingency plans are being activated. The question is no longer whether to prepare for disruption, but how long the disruption will last.
The military dimension of this crisis has tested the Gulf states’ defense capabilities in ways that exercises and simulations never could. The integrated air and missile defense architecture developed over two decades of cooperation with the US has performed well—but not perfectly.
The UAE’s achievement of 94% interception rates for drones and 92% for ballistic missiles represents a technical success. Saudi Arabia’s performance has been similar, though less publicly documented. The Patriot, THAAD, and Aegis systems deployed across the region have demonstrated their effectiveness against the threats they were designed to counter.
But the cost-exchange problem is acute. Iran’s drone and missile arsenal, while less sophisticated than American systems, is vastly cheaper to produce and deploy. The Shahed-136 drones used in attacks cost an estimated $10,000-20,000 each. The PAC-3 MSE interceptors used to destroy them cost $3-4 million apiece. Even with high interception rates, the economic calculus favors Iran.
“The Gulf states are winning the tactical battle but losing the strategic war of attrition,” argues a defense analyst at the RAND Corporation. “Iran can sustain this level of attack indefinitely at current costs. The UAE and Saudi Arabia cannot sustain this level of defense expenditure indefinitely. Something has to give.”
Compounding the cost problem is the question of supply. American munition production capacity, while substantial, is not infinite. The US has supplied significant quantities of interceptors to Gulf partners, but there are limits to how quickly production can be ramped up. Lead times for PAC-3 missiles are currently 18-24 months, meaning that interceptors used today cannot be quickly replaced.
The Institute for the Study of War noted in a recent assessment that “Gulf states’ air defense inventories are being depleted at rates that raise questions about sustainability beyond a 90-day conflict.” If the war continues at current intensity, the region may face a critical shortage of interceptors by mid-2025.
The crisis has also exposed tensions within the Gulf Cooperation Council. While the UAE and Saudi Arabia have borne the brunt of Iranian attacks, other members—notably Qatar and Oman—have pursued more nuanced positions, attempting to preserve diplomatic channels and avoid direct confrontation.
This divergence reflects differing threat assessments and economic interests. For Qatar, with its US base and LNG exports, overt antagonism toward Iran carries significant risks. For Oman, neutrality has been a core principle of foreign policy for decades. But the pressure to align with Saudi and Emirati positions is growing, and the long-term cohesion of the GCC is being tested.
The US security guarantee, long the foundation of Gulf stability, is also being questioned. The Trump administration’s decision to launch strikes without extensive consultation with regional partners has reinforced concerns about American reliability. Gulf officials, speaking privately to the Financial Times, expressed frustration that Washington acted unilaterally, imposing costs on regional partners without their consent.
“The fundamental question is whether the US is committed to Gulf security or merely pursuing its own interests,” notes Bilal Saab of the Washington Institute. “The answer to that question will shape Gulf foreign policy for a generation.”
While the Gulf states face the most immediate threats, the global implications of this crisis extend far beyond the region. Asian economies, which import the vast majority of Gulf oil and gas, are particularly vulnerable.
China, the world’s largest oil importer, receives approximately 4.5 million barrels per day through the Strait of Hormuz—roughly 45% of its total imports. A sustained closure would force Beijing to draw down strategic reserves and seek alternative suppliers, primarily Russia and West Africa. The economic impact would be significant: a $10 increase in oil prices costs China an estimated $50 billion annually.
India, the third-largest importer, receives 2.8 million barrels daily through Hormuz. The Indian government has already activated contingency plans, including strategic reserve releases and diplomatic outreach to alternative suppliers. But India’s refining capacity, much of which is configured for Middle Eastern crude, cannot easily switch to other sources.
Japan and South Korea, both highly dependent on imported energy, face similar challenges. Japan’s strategic petroleum reserves, while substantial, would last only 90 days in a total cutoff scenario. South Korea’s energy-intensive manufacturing sector—semiconductors, automobiles, petrochemicals—would face immediate cost pressures.
The Atlantic Council noted that “the concentration of Asian industrial capacity in countries dependent on Hormuz transit creates systemic risk for the global economy. A sustained closure would not merely raise oil prices; it would disrupt global supply chains and potentially trigger recession.”
Europe, while less directly dependent on Gulf oil, is not immune to the crisis’s effects. LNG markets are globally integrated, and any disruption to Qatari exports would tighten supply and raise prices worldwide.
European LNG import capacity has expanded significantly since the 2022 Ukraine crisis, but the region remains price-sensitive. A sustained outage of Qatari supply could push European gas prices back to 2022 levels—€100+ per MWh—with devastating implications for industrial competitiveness and household energy bills.
The crisis has also complicated European efforts to reduce dependence on Russian gas. With Qatari supply uncertain, some European utilities have increased purchases of Russian LNG, undermining sanctions and creating political controversy.
Russia has been the primary beneficiary of the crisis. As a major oil and gas exporter with no dependence on Hormuz transit, Moscow has gained leverage in global energy markets and increased revenues from higher prices.
Russian crude, which traded at a discount before the conflict, now commands premium prices as buyers seek alternatives to Gulf supply. Moscow has also positioned itself as a diplomatic mediator, offering to facilitate negotiations between Washington and Tehran—a role that enhances its international standing despite its ongoing aggression in Ukraine.
“Russia is playing a double game,” observes Angela Stent of the Brookings Institution. “It benefits economically from higher oil prices and diplomatically from the US being tied down in the Middle East. Putin couldn’t have scripted this better.”
In this scenario, back-channel negotiations—facilitated by Oman, Qatar, or European intermediaries—produce a ceasefire agreement within weeks. Iran agrees to halt missile attacks on Gulf targets in exchange for US commitments to limit future strikes. The Strait of Hormuz reopens to commercial shipping as insurance markets restore coverage.
This outcome depends on several factors: Iranian willingness to negotiate from a position of relative strength, American recognition that limited objectives have been achieved, and Gulf states’ ability to facilitate dialogue without appearing to undermine their US partnerships.
If this scenario materializes, oil prices would likely retreat to $75-80 per barrel, and Gulf economies would experience a rapid recovery. The long-term damage would be limited, though trust in American reliability would remain diminished.
This scenario—considered most likely by analysts—involves sustained low-intensity warfare without resolution. Iran continues periodic missile and drone attacks on Gulf targets. The US maintains pressure through airstrikes and sanctions. The Strait of Hormuz remains effectively closed to commercial shipping, with only military vessels and sanctioned Iranian tankers transiting.
In this environment, Gulf states would face prolonged economic pressure. Tourism and business travel would remain depressed. Oil revenues would be constrained by limited export capacity. Defense expenditures would consume an increasing share of government budgets.
The key variable is duration. A three-month conflict would be damaging but manageable. A year-long conflict would force fundamental economic adjustments, potentially accelerating diversification efforts but also creating social and political pressures.
In the most dangerous scenario, the conflict expands beyond its current parameters. Iranian attacks cause significant casualties in Gulf states, triggering direct military involvement by Saudi or Emirati forces. Israeli strikes on Iranian nuclear facilities add another dimension. The conflict becomes a regional war with multiple state actors.
This scenario would have catastrophic economic implications. Oil prices could spike above $150 per barrel, triggering global recession. Gulf economies would face existential threats, with potential for capital flight, expatriate exodus, and political instability.
The probability of this scenario depends on Iranian escalation decisions, American willingness to expand operations, and Gulf leaders’ tolerance for continued attacks on their territory. Current trends suggest that all parties have incentives to avoid this outcome—but accidents, miscalculations, and domestic political pressures could push events in dangerous directions.
The US-Iran war has exposed a fundamental tension in the Gulf states’ strategic position. For decades, they have pursued a dual objective: maintaining security partnerships with Washington while building economic relationships with Asia. The assumption was that these objectives were compatible—that American security guarantees would enable Gulf prosperity regardless of regional tensions.
That assumption is now being tested. The February 28 strikes, launched without extensive regional consultation, demonstrated that Washington pursues its own interests—preventing Iranian nuclearization, responding to attacks on American forces—regardless of the costs imposed on partners. The Iranian response, targeting Gulf civilian infrastructure, showed that proximity to the US carries immediate risks.
For Gulf leaders, the path forward is unclear. Diversifying security partnerships—expanding ties with China, Russia, or European powers—offers theoretical benefits but no immediate alternatives to American military capabilities. Accelerating economic diversification reduces oil dependence but cannot eliminate it within relevant timeframes. Building domestic defense industries addresses sustainability concerns but requires decades of investment.
What is clear is that the pre-February status quo cannot be restored. The Gulf states must navigate a new reality in which American security guarantees are less reliable, Iranian threats are more direct, and their own economic models are more vulnerable than previously acknowledged.
The tankers anchored off Fujairah are a symbol of this new reality. Their cargo—millions of barrels of crude that cannot reach market—represents not just an economic loss but a strategic vulnerability that Gulf leaders can no longer ignore. The Strait of Hormuz, once a source of geopolitical leverage, has become a chokepoint that threatens to strangle the very prosperity it once enabled.
As Captain Al-Mansouri watches the sun set over the anchored fleet, he knows that his fate—and the fate of millions in the Gulf—depends on decisions made in Washington and Tehran over which he has no control. It is a humbling realization, and one that Gulf leaders share. For all their wealth, ambition, and modernization, they remain vulnerable to the geopolitical currents that swirl around them—currents that have now become a storm.
In the control rooms of Ras Laffan, the world's largest liquefied natural gas (LNG) facility,…
The stage was set. The toss was done. The match never was. At the R.…
India's 61-run demolition of Pakistan in Colombo exposes systematic flaws in team selection, tactical nous,…
Dhaka — Vote counting is underway across Bangladesh following the close of polls at 4:30…
Crimes against humanity represent one of the most serious affronts to human dignity and collective…
KOLKATA, West Bengal—In the intensive care unit of a Kolkata hospital, shielded behind layers of…